


in memories, in dreams

by Solovei



Category: The Devourers - Indra Das
Genre: Alok loves chocolate, Briefly: Kitty!, Character(s) of Color, I just want them to be happy dang it, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, Sappy Ending, Shapeshifting, Sorry Not Sorry, Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, the perils of dating a 500-year-old half-werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei
Summary: Time passes, and Alok tries to go on with his life.





	

Alok considered the shiny box carefully as it sat there reflecting the fluorescent lights above; it seemed to have appeared sometime between the time when he picked up his mail and when his morning lecture ended. He had only come into the faculty lounge to get some coffee, but there it sat on the table, the foil-wrapped chocolates inside offering a tantalizing escape from his Tuesday morning. One of the secretaries, he was told on the way in, had returned from visiting family overseas and brought them for everyone to try. Alok didn’t know what to do with that information. 

The chocolates seemed to all be the same, aligned neatly in their plastic mold like stones inlaid into a bracelet. A few pieces were already missing; he was glad he did not have to be the one to break this natural symmetry. Alok took a piece carefully with the hand that wasn't carrying coffee and wandered back to his small office, closing the door behind him. He wanted to enjoy this alone.

It has been a year and a half since his visit to the Sundarbans and the subsequent return alone. Sometimes he wondered if the whole thing had been an elaborate dream, of the sort that seem real and upon waking leave one feeling cheated out of a possible turn of events. 

But he had the manuscripts, didn't he? 

He had this emptiness in his heart, didn’t he? 

He felt like Cyrah, stuck between two worlds; unable to return to the way things were before he met The Stranger, but unable to move forward without him.

‘Izrail…. his name is Izrail’ Alok repeated to himself, twice, three times in any given day. He feared forgetting and at the same time knew he never could. 

Alok unwrapped the golden foil carefully, trying not to rip it. The confection inside was round, covered in chocolate and finely chopped nuts. He took a small bite out of one side, closing his eyes and feeling it dissolve in his mouth. The sweet kiss of chocolate remained with him even as the earthy hazelnuts made their appearance on his tongue.

For a few seconds, Alok felt himself transported was back into that guest house room, tasting curry on someone else’s lips, being undone and undoing in turn. He recalled at once that kiss and every other kiss he’s ever had, stretching back across time like a mirror reflecting itself. 

The inside of the candy contained a whole hazelnut suspended in a soft chocolate paste. With some maneuvering and a cursory glance to make sure the door was still closed, Alok managed to pry the entire middle out with his tongue, taking it into his mouth. As he felt the rich buttery chocolate melt over him, he looked at the part of the shell he hadn’t eaten yet - an odd little half-circle, hollow like an empty bowl. Two halves coming together around a mutual core, enclosing something that was like them, but different.

He found himself suddenly sad, all the sweetness of the candy fallen flat and cheap on his tongue. He glanced at the foil wrapper and the tiny paper cup that contained it, looking less like ornaments now, just litter on his desk. 

When you’ve tasted the divine, how could anything like this compare? 

\---------------------

Alok woke up to an urgent pawing at his face. He winced and pushed the cat away at first, not realizing through the haze of sleep how uncharacteristic this was for her.

He sat up in bed, brushing a few strands of hair from his face, and felt for his glasses on the nightstand. The window in the living room was open, curtains billowing in the moonlight. 

Alok distinctly recalled closing it. 

He took a cricket bat from behind his bedroom door, just in case, and went to investigate.

He swallowed hard, strained his ears for any trace of a sound. The cat came up behind him, purring softly as she rubbed up against his legs. 

He took a tentative step forward, gripping the bat tightly. He could see now a figure outlined vaguely in the window, but with the light behind it he could only tell that it was human-shaped.

“I…. I'm warning you! I'll call the police.” Alok called out to the window, trying hard to sound threatening. 

“It didn't work...” The figure said.

“...Huh?”

“... I didn't know where else to go.”

Alok felt his shoulders sink. He felt a fire start up inside him and consume him whole, leaving behind only a shiny glass bead. He let out a sigh so deep that no more air remained in his lungs. His body remained frozen in the middle of his living room, afraid to take those two steps and wanting with all its power to bridge the distance. 

Was this a dream? How many times had he dreamt of this moment? Izrail returning in the night as quietly as he arrived, a shadow from the forest, back into his bed and his life

If it was a dream, at least it was a happy one. 

He thought he should say something profound, something true and full of meaning, but it was too late, and he already heard the sound of his own voice.

“Do you want coffee, then?” 

\-----------

They sat and drank their coffee in the tiny kitchen of Alok’s apartment. Neither spoke, although it was clear that both wanted to. Words hung in the air between them, amorphous holes the fabric of silence. Alok held his cup in both hands, aware of its dissipating heat as he tried to catalogue the differences in Izrail’s appearance. Was that a new scar, different tattoo? Had he changed his hair? He drank in as many details as he could, committing them to memory anew. 

He felt self-conscious and awkward again, having Izrail here, as if he was laying his desperation since their last meeting out in the open. If he smelled of loneliness the night they met, he must have reeked of it now. Alok wondered what a person like him would think of the candy wrappers in the trash, the half-finished packet of cookies on the counter, the white sari draped carefully over the chair. His books, his _things_ , only seemed to widen the distance between them. 

“Alok.” 

He jerked his head up, unaware that he’d looked away. “Y-yes?”

“Can I stay here?”

“Oh. Yeah.” 

If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. 


End file.
